


What He Doesn't Know Can't Hurt Him

by Mistflyer1102



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Maintained Distance, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond is absolutely smitten with Q, but refuses to make his feelings known and chooses instead to be friends with Q.</p><p>That is, until Q finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh… my… God… you actually-”

James Bond didn’t even look up as he shoved 009’s shoulder, catching the other assassin completely off guard and sending her to the ground.  Several Q-Branch staff members paused, clearly expecting some form of outrage from the woman; she’d been there to receive her equipment as James came to turn his back in.  Instead of lashing out as even James fully expected, 009 merely cackled before pulling herself up, causing a few Q-Branch staff members to quickly scatter.  A happy Double-O was a quiet cause for concern, but a smug one…James knew that a few staff members were still discreetly searching for any missing bodies after 004 came home with a little smirk on her face and utter silence to the cause with nothing but disconnected comms as her sole witnesses.

Dusting herself off, 009 nodded to his sleeves and murmured, “Don’t forget to get those injuries looked at, hm?”

“Just a slight burn, I’ll live,” James said, keeping his voice down even as Q stepped out of his office, engaged in deep conversation with Tanner over something…the budget, if James had to guess from Q’s familiar pinched expression.

“James, those are fucking _third degree burns_. O’Reilly isn’t _that_ nasty when it comes to medical attention,” 009 whispered furiously, turning her back to Q to prevent any eavesdropping. She sighed, and then said, “And Q isn’t _that_ awful when it comes to missing equipment, at most he would have moaned and groaned about it but gotten over it soon enough.  Injuring yourself isn’t worth the equipment.  Q can easily make equipment, but you’re not as replaceable as you think you are.”

“But O’Reilly goes off-duty the same time Q does, so he won’t log in any visits during his non-working hours.  Besides, I’ve got makeshift bandages and a hell of a lot of paracetamol,” James quietly replied, moving so that Q couldn’t see his words.  “Q’s always wanted his equipment back and I’m well aware of the hole it creates in his budget each time any of us fails to bring something back.”

“That stuff is designed to save your life, not put it further at risk. Even if you did want to bring it home,” 009 muttered under her breath, shaking her head when she saw the scorched gun that James was holding.

“At least it’s something he can fix,” James muttered back. “And while we’re talking about equipment, I’ll have you know that this isn’t the first time I’ve brought back my equipment. Or what’s left of it.”

“Is this the first time you’ve injured yourself trying to retrieve it? You know, after you rendered Q-Branch deaf and blind for the mission’s finale?” 009 asked in a low voice, scowling to scare off a staff member who had been blatantly leaning closer to catch their whispers.  “A romantic interest would certainly explain your sudden habit of going to Medical during Q’s off-duty hours, and the fact that you go the extra mile to make sure that Q has what he needs.  Don’t think I didn’t catch the one time you spent several nights the other week looking for that furball Q owns when Q complained that it went missing and he was all worried…”

James smirked. “What Q doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replied, tapping her nose and earning a scowl.

“Which begs the question of why he _can’t_ know,” 009 asked carefully.

James shrugged before glancing back at Q, who looked like he was ready to hit Tanner over the head with his folder.  Making a mental note to ‘drop in’ on Tanner later and inquire after the Q-Branch budget (he’d have to get Tanner’s home address first), he turned back around and said, “Assuming he was even interested to begin with, it would eventually kill him to stay around me longer than he’s doing already. I can’t promise him _anything_ because of my line of work. You know how it is, you’ve been at it for as long as I have. I’d rather see him happy with someone else and that brilliant smile of his than to risk taking it all away. It would be healthier for him in the long run if I stayed professional and away.”

“And has Q had an chance to weigh in on this matter?”

“No, and it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t,” James muttered before looking up and finding a Q-Branch technician shuffling nervously in front of them.  “If you repeat _one word_ of whatever you just heard, I guarantee it that you will not live until your next paycheck,” he said in a calm voice.

The man paled, but nodded silently as he held out 009’s equipment for a peace offering.

“Talk to him,” 009 muttered as she left.

James shrugged and turned back to Q, who was flipping off to Tanner’s retreating back. “I’m sure given time, he’ll come around,” James teased, steadying Q with one hand on the shoulder when the young man jumped.

Q sighed, shaking his head as he set the budget folders down. “I swear I need to put a bell on all of you, since you keep startling me badly,” he complained good-naturedly as James set the damaged gun on the worktable.  “Oh, lovely, you’ve brought it back,” he said, smiling as he reached for the gun.  “Other than getting shot at, how was Santorini?”

“Nice. Might vacation down there once I go on leave,” James replied, careful to keep his tone light yet detached while watching as Q study the gun. “It was the best I could bring back,” he said after a moment, well aware of the recent argument.

“Something is always better than nothing,” Q replied calmly as he pulled the case out and placed the Walther back into the bed of foam.  “You wouldn’t happen to have the earpiece, would you?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, sorry about that.”  James reached up and gently pulled the earpiece out.  He paused, however, when he saw Q’s shocked expression.  “What?”

“Your, um, hand,” Q said, frowning as he reached out for the hand that James had been using to reach for the earpiece.

 _Shit_. James had forgotten about the burns extending onto the back of his right hand, stupid of him especially given that 009 had spotted them as well. He swiftly placed the earpiece onto the table and stuffed his hand into a pocket as he said, “Sunburn.  Happens when you’re in the Mediterranean.”

Q frowned. “I thought you were out of your opponent’s car when it blew,” he said, brows knitting together in confusion as he reached for James’s wrist.

 _But he had your gun when the car blew up, I went back for it as soon as it had finished exploding. I also may have been a little too close._ “Well, I can go get it checked later, it’s not bad at all,” he said, hating himself for a moment for the concern on Q’s face. _Come on Q, don’t worry about me.  Short life span and all, remember? One little burn isn’t going to make much of a difference_.  “I was out of range when the car blew up, you worry too much,” James chided, grinning when Q scowled for a second.

“Well, all’s done and thank you for returning your equipment,” Q said, smiling softly as he looked up at James, the same, untainted smile that James enjoyed even when it wasn’t directed at him.  “I do appreciate the gesture, thank you.”

James nodded in response.  “You’re welcome. Q,” he said before turning to leave.

“Double-oh seven,” Q replied, a note of final dismissal in his voice before he turned back to what he’d been working on before Tanner arrived.

James didn’t immediately go to Medical.

Instead, he terrorized the recruits and harassing the instructors for several hours before finally retreating to hide from one angered instructor. He changed his bandages once in the loo, just to keep the infection from setting in before wrapping his arms up again.  Careful to avoid the internal security cameras, he lurked outside the entrance to Medical, waiting patiently for 1700 hours to roll around. O’Reilly was somewhat used to James’s oddly timed medical visits, so even after Ellen Wilbur had left, James knew that O’Reilly was still in there despite it being past his shift. Slinking into Medical, careful to avoid the two cameras watching the entrance on either side, James walked past them and headed down the hall where he knew O’Reilly waited for him.

“What is it this time?” O’Reilly asked, not bothering to look up as James entered as he set out various instruments and medications.

“Burns, all the way from first to third degree on both arms,” James replied, nudging the door shut with his hip before pulling off his suit jacket and dress shirt before sitting down on the examination table.  O’Reilly scowled at the makeshift bandages as James began pulling them off.  “I kept them as clean as possible.”

 _“Third degree_? I think these are second degree…why the bloody hell do you not come sooner?” O’Reilly snapped, already gearing up for another, visit-long lecture about what James suspected would be about ‘proper medical care’ and ‘swallowing his fucking pride long enough before infection set in’. “Christ Bond, why don’t you _ever_ come in during regular hours, when I have staff assistance available? I mean, cat scratches and that one gouge from the beast I can handle on my own, but _burns_?”

“I can wait here so you can go get some of your night staff,” James said tiredly, already thinking about his flat; he was exhausted, and the flight home with the injuries hadn’t helped matters much.  Honestly, at this point, he wanted to fall into bed with the usual mess of painkillers in his system. He vaguely wondered what Q would do once he left, most likely went home to that bloody cat of his and anyone else (James hadn’t seen evidence of a partner when he brought the cat to its home in the middle of the night, and stuffing it through a window into the flat had been strangely satisfying because the cat had been yowling in anger the entire time. Good riddance, James hated that cat but he’d seen how fondly Q spoke of it to some of his coworkers), but he knew that a lack of evidence didn’t necessarily mean that Q was single.

 _And even if he was, better to spare him the heartbreak_.

It was almost like meeting Vesper again, the potential for a happy future but this time with the experience of his life so far.  Perhaps, if he had met her with the knowledge of what his duty as a Double-O entailed, he might have let her go as well, to spare her the pain of loss. At that point, resignation wouldn’t even been on the table as an option, he’d be too mired in his duty to Queen and country.

His hands were too tainted to touch the source of light.  Better that they shine on their own than risk damage in his hands. He could always watch at a distance.

“Well, let me go get someone to help me, I can’t believe you walked- never mind, I can believe that you walked around all day with these burns.  Wait here and _don’t fucking move_ ,” O’Reilly groused before making a face at the sight. “How bad is the pain?”

“Not at all, I took a few paracetamol earlier today,” James said, rolling his shoulders as O’Reilly grumbled to himself.

“Well, just don’t move then,” O’Reilly said peevishly before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.  James didn’t relax until he heard the doctor’s retreating footsteps with the lack of a door lock clicking into place, then he let his shoulders sag, swearing softly as he felt the pain on the edge of his consciousness.  The bravado could only get him so far.

He frowned when he heard approaching footsteps on the other side of the door, tensing slightly when he realized that they were lighter than O’Reilly’s usual footfalls. It was most likely a nurse strong-armed into coaxing him into an operating room. “Not interested,” he said flatly as the doorknob turned and the door swung open.

“Good, because I wasn’t going to offer you anything,” Q said lightly as he closed the door behind him. James felt his stomach drop and muscles tense as he stared at the Quartermaster, completely at loss of what to say or do next. Especially since he was sitting there exposed and about to be caught out on a lie.  Q remained quiet as he glanced at James’s injuries, and then repeated, “Sunburns?”

“It gets hot there in the summer,” James replied defensively, mentally scrambling for an excuse that would get him out of the mess he was about to careen into.

“Fire-hot?” Q asked skeptically, drawing up a chair to the right of the room and sitting down. He frowned as he made eye contact with James, never looking away as he leaned forward and reached for James’s nearest hand.

“I miscalculated the distance,” James replied, allowing Q’s cool fingers to slide across his skin as Q turned his hand over and spread his palm out, revealing an imprint from the Walther’s handgrip. _Shit_. “I also might have grabbed the Walther while it was still too hot.”

“Yes, I can tell.” Q frowned, and then shook his hand.  “James, as much grief as I give you and others about returning equipment, I don’t expect you to risk yourself in retrieving it,” he said, carefully resting James’s hand back on the examining table.

 _I wanted to_. “It wasn’t a problem.”

An arched eyebrow.  “I didn’t say it was, it’s just this isn’t your MO.  Double-oh nine thinks you’ve been behaving somewhat erratically as well, and she said you’d be able to tell me what was going on,” Q said, leaning back casually in his chair without breaking eye contact.

 _And the traitor should count her blessings that she’s out of the country now_. “There’s nothing going on, I’m just fine,” James snapped without intending to. Mentally berating himself for the slight flinch from Q, he took a steady breath and said, “Perhaps, Q, you’re jumping at shadows.  I’m fine.”

Q merely nodded before standing up.  He hesitated at the door, and then said, “You do know that as a friend, I wouldn’t rat you out the shrinks, right? Um, if you’re ever ready to talk about it, let me know.”

 _I know_. James merely nodded before saying, “You should go before O’Reilly gets back, you know how tetchy he gets about unauthorized visitors.”

Q nodded. “Good point.”  He hesitated, and then added, “Good evening, double-oh seven, do try to take the time to recover.”

 _If that’s what you want, then I will_. “Of course,” James replied, keeping his tone neutral. “Good evening, Q.”  He leaned back slightly as Q nodded once before slipping back into the hall, and then let out a slow sigh as he heard Q’s footsteps retreating. The blacked-out comms would keep Q from ever figuring out that James had intentionally dived back into the car wreck, not for the girl but for the gun and the desired intel, the latter of which he’d given to a Q-Branch tech upon his arrival. He hadn’t realized he’d been injured badly from the last dive until he was back in his hotel room, preparing to leave.

James leaned his head back, trying to think of anything and anyone but the dark-haired Quartermaster.

He knew he was in deep, but he was trying his damndest not to drown.


	2. Chapter 2

“Double-oh seven? May I have a word?”

“Of course,” James said, promptly turning around from the weapons table in Q-Branch; as punishment for getting into a scrape with Scotland Yard, M and O’Reilly had sentenced James to spend the remainder of his four-week recovery period in Q-Branch, assisting with weapons testing. Not that James minded too much, it gave him a legitimate excuse to be near Q without giving anything away. Almost three weeks had passed between now and the conversation in Medical, and James hadn’t exactly given Q a chance to bring it up again. “Are we keeping to the same two guns today or changing models?” he asked.

“What? Oh, yes, right. The models. Um, yes, we’ll be keeping to the same models today, double-oh nine has volunteered to assist today,” Q replied, blinking as though caught off guard at first before he gestured to 009, who stepped out from behind him. She must have returned earlier, but she met James’s cool gaze with one of her own.  Q turned back to James and said, “She will take over with the weapons testing, I want you somewhere else today.”

James blinked, narrowing his eyes slightly at 009, who shrugged minutely with one shoulder before he turned back to Q, his face calmly smoothed over. “And where would that be?” he asked, placing the gun back down in the tray.

“Archives, M wants us to digitize everything and place it on an disconnected server for storage purposes,” Q said, making a face as though the very prospect offended him. “That means not only will we be going through thick binders as far back as 1920, if I remember correctly where I left off with the few staff working with me, but also scanning quite a bit of information into the computer. Technically the agency started back in 1909, but we won’t have to go back that far since this is an ongoing project. Anyway, I need help getting some of the boxes down, some are too heavy for me to handle alone. I already cleared this job with O’Reilly,” he said, gesturing for 009 to receive her instructions from R. He raised an eyebrow at James, and then asked, “That won’t be too much trouble for you, will it?”

“Of course not.” James stepped aside to allow 009 in, and deliberately avoided her attempts at catching his attention. He gestured for Q to lead the way, noting the younger man’s inability to remain still; Q kept fiddling with the edge of his cardigan, and James did not miss the way Q glanced quickly at 009 before leaving, the agent studiously ignoring the two of them. 

She’d been talking to Q, and James hoped for her sake that she hadn’t repeated any of their conversation that day he had returned from Santorini.

“Is she bothering you?” he asked lightly as he followed Q in and out of the numerous workstations in Q-Branch, a few technicians sneaking glances as he passed their tables.

“What? No, no, she thinks I’m not eating enough, even invited Eve and me to dinner the other night. She’s a really good cook, even sent me home with leftovers. Kids are a bit noisy, though. Apparently discipline goes out the window whenever there are guests over, especially people they haven’t met before,” Q said, shaking his head as they reached an unmarked door near his closed office.

“Mm, O’Reilly loves them.  Apparently children are more obedient than double-ohs, as he likes to always remind us when we go in after missions,” James said, shifting his stance so that he could see the entirety of Q-Branch without leaving Q exposed.  “Drives double-oh nine crazy every time he reminds her,” he added over his shoulder as Q typed in a four-digit code into the keypad and pushed the door open after a near-faint _click_.

“Yes, she mentioned as much when she finally got them to bed,” Q said, making James light up inside as he grinned broadly at the agent. He held the door open for James and then gestured for him to walk ahead while he closed the door and turned the lights on. “Do you ever think about having a family?” he asked, catching up to James and walking alongside the agent.

 _Sometimes, as a last resort and when I can’t stand the thought of being alone. There’s only one other person though._ “No, I don’t usually think about something I can’t afford to have,” James said, careful to keep his voice from sounding sharp. “Double-oh nine and her family are well aware of the risks involved. It’s easier this way,” he added, glancing at Q for a second. Even in the warm lighting of tiled hall, he could see the dark circles under Q’s eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”

Q snorted. “Last night, thank you very much. Missy, she’s my cat, she got weird last night about one of the windows in the living room, so she kept me up a bit. Kept clawing at the wooden windowsill, like she was expecting someone to show up. It was a little unnerving to be honest,” he said, shrugging with one shoulder. “Usually, I trust her judgment in people, but just the fact that she randomly showed up in my flat overnight after being gone for almost a week is odd all on its own.”

“Perhaps an admirer of yours overheard you mention her disappearance,” James suggested mildly as the two of them entered what looked like a cavernous room that had stacks of boxes with a mini-office in the corner. “Christ…”

“Then it would have to be someone in Six, I didn’t really talk about her disappearance to many people to begin with,” Q said, shoulders sagging at the sight of the boxes. He glanced over at the mini-office, where James then noticed another, smaller stack of boxes sitting next to the desk that had the computer and scanner. “It’s going to take forever to get through all of this…”

 _And I can’t really help you without blowing my cover._ James wondered how many other people knew of the archival room. “Can’t we hunt down one of your minions to assist?” he asked, mentally calculating the number of boxes while wondering how many files were in each box.

“The five I usually have down here are outfitting a couple agents today, I told them I could handle today’s quota,” Q said, nodding to a stack that sat near the computer. “I was just wondering that while we go through this stack of boxes, you could hold the files open to help keep everything in chronological order.”

James nodded, figuring he could at least rest a little before doing the heavy lifting.

The files that lay open on the desks when the two of them sat down were dated from 1923, and were barely legible intelligence reports from undercover agents in Berlin. James made a face but sat down regardless in the indicated chair and slipped on the offered cloth gloves, silently allowing Q to fuss with his position and his hands before Q gingerly set the binder in James’s hands and then sat down beside him, turning the computer and connected scanner back on before pulling on his own gloves.

They sat in silence for an indeterminable length of time, Q muttering something under his breath every time he lifted a yellowed page off the binder and set it on the scanner. James could see the stress in the Quartermaster’s shoulders, whether from the task at hand or something else. He could see the lines etched in Q’s brow, even though Q’s head was bowed as he focused on the laptop screen. The urge to kiss them away, even with light brushes against warm skin, was strong.

 _No, no,_ _don’t let him know. Either he’s committed or not interested, or you’ll drag him down with your eventual downfall._

James leaned back for a moment in order to rein himself back in and create a safe distance between him and Q. He had no illusions about the manner of his death; he had nowhere to go if he left the service. He planned to simply keep going until he finally gave out or luck turned against him for the first time. He had no family to anchor him to London, and most of his friends were the Double-Os, since they trained and fought together. Eve’s duties kept her in a circle that was out of James’s reach, and Q never saw death as close as James did. He still recalled what he’d told 009 the last time they’d discussed Q, just after Santorini, that Q would be better off with someone else. Even if it had been years since someone kept an eye out for James, since someone cared about _him_ and not 007, since someone-

“Want to talk about it now?”

James blinked, completely thrown off-guard. “Sorry, what?” he said, blinking to find Q watching him carefully.

“I can literally hear your thoughts churning, and you sat there for almost ten minutes with your hands out without questioning why I didn’t give you another binder after I took the first one from you,” Q said, brow furrowed in concern as he set the new binder down on the cloth covering the desk. He pulled his gloves off and then leaned over to shut the laptop lid. Leaning back in his chair, he asked, “What’s on your mind?”

 _Death. Illusions. You. Trust me when I say you don’t want to know._ James arched an eyebrow as he pulled his own gloves off. “And why is knowing that critical?” he asked casually as he set his own gloves to the side.

“Because thoughts like this are clearly causing a distraction for you, and that could kill you out on the field,” Q said, shrugging with a shoulder as he smirked. “Aside from that, I’ve grown rather fond of you and would rather you didn’t die just because you weren’t focused.”

 _Easy James, he doesn’t mean that seriously._ “I’m always focused, I’ve been trained not to let personal matters distract me while on the field,” James replied even as he caught the little flutter of hope in his chest and held it close.

Q frowned thoughtfully, glancing at the ceiling for a moment. “Is it a woman?” he guessed, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at James. “I wouldn’t think you of all people would have difficulty with a woman.”

“Not if I wanted to treat her right.” The half-lie was out before James could stop himself, and the little bubble of hope died painfully in his chest. “It’s complicated to explain, but she deserves better,” he said, leaning back in his own chair. “There’s no telling if the next mission will kill me, or if she could understand the necessity of sleeping with someone on the job.” He hesitated, sensing an opportunity, and then added, “I don’t want to drag her down with me, she wouldn’t be happy with me once she realizes what she’s gotten herself into. I’m alcoholic, nearly suicidal, and a constant target. I don’t know if I could live with her hatred, so better that she remain ignorant and I remain at a distance.”

Q frowned. “She must be one hell of a woman if you’re willing to do _that_ much for her,” he said, glancing back at the closed laptop.

 _You are worth it._ “It’s her smile, especially,” James said at a moment, wishing he could wipe away the deepening frown on Q’s face. “Even when she’s not directing it at me, she has a brilliant smile that can brighten a person’s day and make the receiver question his luck for receiving such a gift. She always asks me about my trips once I return, she likes to fret about me even when I tell her that everything is all right.”

“ _I_ also ask about your trips when you return,” Q countered, a trace of hurt barely audible in his voice as he straightened his back. He tilted his head at James. “Does she even know you work for MI6?” he asked, his voice bordering on an accusation.

James chose to lie here. “No, she doesn’t.  She thinks that I’m a little clumsy and get into frequent scrapes,” he said, frowning slightly when Q looked away again. “But that’s neither here nor there,” he said, choosing to close the topic lest he anger Q even more; he could see the lines of tension in Q’s jaw. “Which binder are we working on next?”

“This one, but I’m not done yet.” James raised an eyebrow at Q’s firm tone, and relaxed again when Q turned to face him. “Do I know her? What does she like to do?” Q asked, folding his arms across his chest.

James lied again. “No, she’s a bit reclusive, you wouldn’t know her,” he said, looking away from Q. “He’s talented though, not in my area of expertise, closer to yours. Owns a cat though, the hatred is mutual between me and the bloody animal-”

“Wait, _he_?”

It took James a few seconds to process Q’s question, mentally review his last sentence, silently curse himself for the slip, and then stand up, the chair scraping loudly against the cement floor as he pushed it back. “I have to go, I just remembered that O’Reilly said he had an ointment he wanted to try to cool the burns with,” he said, avoiding Q’s gaze as he turned and began walking away. “I’ll send one or two of your technicians to come help you.”

“Wait, double-oh- Bond, wait!” James heard rather than saw the scraping of the second chair as Q recovered from his shock and began to give chase.  “Bond!”

“I’ll be back tomorrow at the usual time,” James said, checking his watch as though in a rush. He took advantage of his longer, brisk strides to stay out of Q’s reach. “Trust me when I say it’s better this way,” he muttered under his breath as he easily opened the door that led back into Q-Branch. It took him a few seconds to locate the two available technicians who were closest to him. Reaching out and snagging their sleeves, he said, “I think your boss needs a little assistance with the archives.” He narrowed his eyes briefly, causing both technicians to shrink back in fear. “Do something about it,” he said before turning and (somewhat) gently pushing them towards Q, who was forced to stop and brace himself to avoid a collision.

Then he turned and made a break for the door.

“ _James!_ ”

At Q’s voice, James slowed, and turned, but hesitated for the briefest of seconds when he made eye contact with Q. He hated himself for the desperation in Q’s eyes, hated himself for (most likely) putting it there with his abrupt retreat. He could see the next order— _Stay—_ forming on Q’s lips even as he took a few more steps back towards the exit.

He wordlessly shook his head in response before turning and leaving Q-Branch.

_I don’t want to drag you down with me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it looks like there will be a third chapter, to wrap the story up :)


	3. Chapter 3

James, ever the professional, returned to work the next morning.

He ignored the whispers that followed in his wake, heading instead straight for the weapons table where R was laying out the few guns for the day. “R, what do you have for me today?” he asked, keeping his tone firm to preemptively deter any probing questions about yesterday’s flight, but calm to keep Q’s second-in-command from panicking at the semi-demand.

“Give me a moment, double-oh seven, and I’ll tell you,” R said, offering a thin smile before turning back to the table. “We may have a sniper rifle for you today, and it works out well since double-oh two returned from Borneo last night. Although I would steer clear of him in person, he seems to have gotten into a domestic with the wife last night and got exiled to the couch. One shot to the shoulder is all we’re looking for, and you’ll be using paint bullets instead of actual ammunition. Bright yellow, I think is the color we’re looking for.”

“What about white?” James suggested, casually leaning against the worktable.

“Because for one, you’re more mature than that.  London’s pigeon population doesn’t need to be wiped out entirely, contrary to what some people may want. Two, yellow is the color we use in test runs anyway, so he’ll know immediately that it wasn’t a genuine attempt on his life,” R said, scowling. “We’re using new bullets that are supposed to cause a less-noticeable reaction upon impact, so if it works, the pigeons would be a viable suspect. Hence the yellow paint.”

“Who are we shooting?” 009 asked, appearing at James’s side.

R narrowed his eyes. “Double-oh two.”

She raised an eyebrow, and then turned to James. “Can I shoot him?” she asked, looking unusually hopeful.

“No, because if I know you as well as I think, you’ll be shooting _me_ next,” James said, ignoring her scowl as he turned back to R. “He’s not aware that he’s about to be a participant in a test?”

“M should have told him this morning that we’ll require his services for sniper rifle testing at some point today, we’re just not going to call him down,” Q said, appearing around 009 and accidentally startling R. “Whoever takes the shot had better be a good one and excellent escape artist, double-oh two was somewhat temperamental when he returned his equipment this morning,” he said, setting down a long sniper rifle case. “Not to mention that the tester would have to be close to double-oh one’s build since he’ll be getting the rifle later. I’d have him test it, but he’s out and won’t return for another week or so.” He glanced at 009 and said, “I’m not sure if I can sanction having you behind the trigger.”

“He won’t know what hit him,” she said, the slight edge of desperation in her voice. “Please, sir? What double-oh one taught him, he taught me. I know what to do.”

“Or you could ask Eve to do it,” James suggested, ignoring the elbow from 009.

“Aside from unwilling to instigate something, I need someone closer to double-oh one’s stature since part of the test involves calibration issues,” Q said, smiling briefly before pushing two handguns towards 009. “Fine-tuning happens after double-oh one returns. Now, R will take you to the firing range to continue today’s run, and I’ll go with double-oh seven outside to test the rifle. Start with these.”

009 arched an eyebrow, but nodded. “Of course, Q, now that I can work with,” she said, smiling sweetly at James before following R to the firing range.

James ignored her, instead turning to face Q, who was more focused on securing the case clasps.  He glanced around, scowled at the two staff members who were blatantly staring, and then turned back to Q once he felt that they no longer had any eavesdroppers. “How are you doing?” he asked in a low voice, noting the more pronounced dark circles underneath Q’s eyes.

Q nodded almost absently to himself. “Fine, I’m fine,” he said, bending over slightly as he struggled to fix the last clasp. He shook his head, and then said, “Bond-”

“If this is about yesterday, I’m not mad at all. Or offended, for that matter,” James replied, leaning forward so that their foreheads almost touched.

“I know, I know, but it was stupid of me to automatically assume that your friend was female,” Q said, hefting the case off the table and gesturing for James to follow him. “And then my reaction was _completely_ unwarranted, I was just surprised. Your usual modus operandi suggests a strict preference for female partners, and it never, ah, occurred to me that the opposite was also likely,” he added as they left the branch. “I apologize for my exaggerated reaction yesterday.”

“Accepted. It’s also that modus operandi that keeps him safe from anyone who wishes me harm,” James said, pressing the button for the lift before gently prying the sniper rifle case from Q’s hands; Q had been standing with a slight tilt to his stance, which was odd since James had seen him carry heavier things before without any issue. “It also keeps him from finding out,” he added as he moved to hold the lift doors open for Q and followed the other man in.

Q offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?” he said, leaning against the lift wall.

“I’ve witnessed the deaths of three people I ever cared for, I don’t want to add a fourth to the list,” he said, noting the momentary wrinkle of confusion on Q’s brow before it disappeared. “The person will never know because there’s a high chance that I will die relatively soon, and I’m not cruel enough to offer that person something only to snatch it back less than a month later with my death,” he said, focusing on Q. _Listen to what I’m trying to tell you._

“Guess you’re not a fan of deathbed confessions, then?” Q asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Those are even worse.”

Q nodded, finally looking away.  “Well, I think that if anything, your actions with this man prove that you’re less of the heartless selfish bastard everyone takes you for,” he said, studying the hem of his usual cardigan. He hesitated, and then said, “If you’d like, I could squeeze this person into the list of lower-level MI6 personnel, just for the benefit of extra but discreet security. Even if he didn’t work with technology, I could add him to the list of Q-Branch staff and explain it away as a new hire, no one really looks at that those lists except M and myself, and I could redirect the salary back to the branch so he wouldn’t have anything to tip him off.”

James stared at him, blindsided by the offer. “Why would you do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Q shrugged. “He means something to you and makes you happy. I take care of my agents. I take care of him through the extension of you. He would never know, keeping to your wishes to remain anonymous, and I’m really the only one capable of pulling something like that off successfully and you know it,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

James smirked as the lift came to a stop. “Modest as ever, I see.”

Q pretended to preen. “You love it when I do that,” he said before stepping off the lift.

 _That and so much more_. James readjusted his grip on the sniper rifle case as he followed Q out and across the lobby. “I’ll take you up on that offer only after I die,” he said, glancing at Q while careful to keep his voice down low. “I can protect him when in London. His name is in my contacts list, I trust you’ll be able to work with that,” he said, grinning slightly at Q’s lit expression.

James knew he’d have to somehow convince a Q-Branch staffer to create a few convincing profiles for Q to find later, and then place several fake identities into his contacts list. It would keep Q too busy to mourn James for long, if at all, and potentially move him along faster from grieving. James knew full well how badly Q handled each agent’s death, always retreating to his flat or a pub by himself after the missions were officially wrapped up, with only Missy for company at the end of the night. James never interfered, the only exception being when he escorted an extremely drunk Quartermaster back home. Q had been nearly unconscious with drink, and James wasn’t too worried about being found out, given he could always blame it on Q’s imagination.

“At the way you keep hanging around headquarters while off-duty, you could have me fooled as to how much you monitor him,” Q said as the two of them headed outside, waiting for a moment on the curb before dashing across the street. James remained careful to stay behind Q and to quickly scan the immediate vicinity for any potential threats. Once on the other side, Q stepped back to let James choose the building, and then followed James as the agent headed for a small government building that was not too far down the street from headquarters: across the street was always a favorite target, and would be the first place 002 searched for the sniper. The low rooftop gave James enough of a vantage point while enabling for a quick escape.

“Hopefully he won’t remember fast enough that double-oh one is out of town, and will go after him first,” James said as Q picked the lock of the back door, letting them both inside. “That will give us enough time to escape.”

“Where to?” Q asked, frowning slightly as he followed James up the stairs.

“No idea. I was thinking either your flat or mine, or the café down the street. The owner thinks that just because I don’t have a partner, I apparently don’t feed myself very well. She stuffs me with food every time I go,” James said, stepping back to let Q work on the lock that led to the roof access door. “It’s really your kind of place.”

“Ha, ha, you’re a riot,” Q said, sticking his tongue out. James balled his fist at his side, well aware that Q would smack him if he reached out and caught Q’s tongue.

The two of them stepped out on the rooftop, James eyeing his shot to the main entrance of SIS headquarters. If 002 didn’t come out on his own, James wouldn’t mind calling him to coax him outside. It shouldn’t be hard, given that the lunch rush was about to begin and 002 had a favorite restaurant he liked to frequent when his wife was otherwise occupied. James set the case down on the roof and watched in silence as Q fiddled with the clasps, brow furrowing in concentration as he easily undid each one. Wordlessly he opened the case, and gently handed each piece to James, allowing the agent to put the rifle together. James focused on Q’s facial expressions as the other man worked, noting the creases in Q’s brow and tightly pressed lips and the lines of tension in the man’s neck and what James could see of his shoulders.

“Ready?” Q asked once James had folded the rifle together.

“Yes, where’s the ammunition?”

Q produced a plastic case of three paint pellets. “Use them wisely, and try not to hit anyone else. We’re going to risk M’s wrath as it is,” he said, grinning as he handed the case over to James.

“Q, are you doubting my ability to shoot someone?” James asked as he loaded the rifle before moving to lie flat on his stomach, lining up the crosshairs to the front door and so that the silencer barely poked over the rooftop. He hummed in appreciation as the scope slowly adjusted itself, indicating to James that the rifle was not in the best position for the angle and distance of the shot. “First suggestion for improvement: different color to blend in with the surroundings.”

“Noted.” Q laid down next to him, pulling out his mobile phone to jot a few notes down. “All right, when you’re ready. Sensors are operational,” he said, swiping to a new screen and settling down to watch the numbers on his screen.

James slowly exhaled, hyperaware of Q’s close presence.  He humored the thought of being this close to Q without any potential for accidental sexual interpretations. Then he furrowed his brow, schooling his mind as his world narrowed down to the riflescope. He could hear the chirps of birds, the humming of car engines below in the street, the general chatter below, and Q’s soft breathing next to him. He focused on those breaths, silently counting each inhale and exhale, soft little reminders of the fragile life next to him. There was something oddly beautiful, hearing Q’s heartbeats and knowing that Q was _alive_ and well. James closed his eyes briefly, just once imagining the slight brush of warm skin against his fingertips as brilliant green eyes focused on only him.

James reopened his eyes in time to see 002 step out of SIS headquarters, checking his watch. The agent wore a gray suit with a crooked tie, but didn’t seem bothered about his appearance as he reached for his mobile.

Then James lined up the shot and pressed the trigger.

002 jerked back, his mouth going ‘O’ in surprise and somehow holding himself upright without alerting the few MI6 personnel around him. He then looked down to find the yellow paint splotch across the left side of his chest. James smirked when he saw rather than heard 002 bellow ‘ _Lee!’_ , startling a few personnel, and look wildly around until he looked straight in James’s direction.  He gave James the finger, and immediately started running towards them.

“Fuck…he’s blamed double-oh one, but spotted the rifle anyway. Perhaps something to reduce glare on the scope?” James suggested, rolling away from Q and began disassembling the rifle.

“That might be tricky,” Q said, starting to stand up until James pulled him back down. “What?”

“Do that, and you’ll announce your presence to an infuriated double-oh agent,” James said, moving to allow Q closer to the rifle to put it back into its foam bed. “As much as I love the innovations you made to this, you might need to take some of it to keep it lightweight,” he added as he and Q placed the rifle parts back into their proper places. Shutting the case, he said, “It’ll also make our escape easier.”

“Where are we going?” Q asked, seemingly torn between fright at the thought of an enraged Double-O and excitement at the impending chase.

James didn’t think before answering. “My flat, it’s close,” he said, aware that maintaining the distance should include having Q over as a guest in his own flat. “Think you can make it?”

“I’m the younger one here, remember?” Q teased before scooting closer to the roof access door. “And we’re both somewhat unarmed for close-quarters combat, which double-oh two happens to excel in.”

“Then let’s get going,” James said, grinning even as he took Q’s hand and gently tugged the quartermaster down the stairs.

Once on the street, they took off at a full run, Q laughing despite the apparent danger—or perhaps because of it—while James moved to Q’s five out of habit. His shoulder with its still-healing skin protested the treatment, but James kept his focus on Q. His heart lightened for a few precious moments as Q, unaware of James’s current position as one of protection, slowed down to keep pace with James, obeying the light touch to the elbow as they approached one of James’s two flats in the city (the official one that MI6 knew about). The two slipped into the lobby, James barely sparing the front desk security officer a nod of acknowledgement as they headed for the lifts. Q leaned against the wall of the lift as it headed up for the eighth floor, almost glowing from the run and the exhilaration of the chase.

“That… that was more fun that it should have been,” Q said, panting as he and James exited the lift, the two of them keeping a brisk pace. “Double-oh two is going to be angry once he finds out that was why we needed him.”

“We can ask his wife to bring him under control, I’ve got just the right incentive for her,” James said, winking as he unlocked his door and stood aside to let Q in before following him. “She’ll obey quickly and I won’t have to follow through on it in the end,” he said, grinning as he set the rifle case down on the couch as Q toed his shoes off before padding into the flat. James shut the door, locked it in case 002 had spotted the two of them fleeing, and then turned to approach Q. The younger man had sat down on the couch to catch his breath and spread himself out across the cushions in the meantime.

“James, that is awful and double-oh nine will hate you later for it. Although, she’s been itching to tell me something for the last couple weeks now, but won’t tell since she said she needs, and I quote, ‘sufficient blackmail material to keep the mighty James Bond under control’,” Q said, grinning as James placed a hand on the back of the couch and a knee on a cushion to lean over him. “I have to admit that I’m rather curious about this blackmail material,” he said, voice growing softer as James moved closer.

“Well, try to find out before she uses it, I want to take it out of her power,” James replied, his voice dropping slightly as he studied Q, laid out in front of him in rumpled clothes. The other man was flushed, but his breathing slowed and pupils dilated as he made and held eye contact with James. James slowly exhaled, suddenly very aware of their positions. “Q…” he began carefully, frozen, torn between moving away again and giving in for once.

Q looked terrified for a split second before he leaned forward and wrapped his hands around James’s neck. James didn’t dare breathe when Q pulled him down for an unexpectedly deep kiss.

 _Fuck_.

James was screwed, and he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, there was a 15+ hour road trip involved with the first round of moving.


	4. Chapter 4

_What the hell am I doing?_

It cost James all of his willpower to remind himself that he shouldn’t—couldn’t—get carried away in the moment. He couldn’t lead Q into thinking that there could be a ‘them’ in the immediate future. Even as Q’s fingers tightened in his short blond hair and pulled him closer, while James carefully arranged his weight around Q as to not crush him, James knew he should be pulling away by now. Five minutes ago, even. He pressed another kiss against Q’s lips, the bridge of his nose bumping against the glasses before James tilted his head for a better angle. He began disentangling himself when Q whimpered, a small sound that James would have otherwise missed if he hadn’t been so close. James softly shushed him as he indulged himself long enough to run a hand through the thick black curls that he’d often fantasized about and twist a handful of strands around his fingers and pull back to expose Q’s pale neck.

_I can’t do this. Not to him._

Swallowing back the knot in his throat—he’d never get this close again—he kissed Q’s lips one last time, lingering for a few moments before he released Q’s hair and gently laid the younger man back down. Noting the confusion in Q’s eyes as he reached up and gently unwound Q’s arms from his body, James moved off the couch with a grunt, careful not to crush Q’s body. He walked over to the flat door and made sure it was locked before turning to Q. “Deterrent for double-oh two, I think Alec might have told him how to get into the flat,” he said, suddenly unsure of what to say. Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his short hair before he said, “I apologize, for overstepping boundaries. It won’t happen again.”

Q raised an eyebrow as James crossed the flat towards the kitchen. “Wait, it’s not your fault,” he said, promptly getting up off the couch to follow James into the kitchen. “Bond, _James_ , _listen_ to me,” he said, catching James’s sleeve and forcing the agent to face him. “As I wanted to say, there’s nothing to be sorry for, please talk to me, I hate it when you push me out,” he said even as James slid the suit jacket off and thus out of Q’s grip. “James, I made the first move, remember?”

“I know, and I shouldn’t have encouraged it. Trust me when I say it won’t happen again,” James said grimly before heading down the hall to grab another suit jacket, not particularly caring if it didn’t go well with his trousers.

“James, wait. Just, just… _just stop!_ ”

James paused for a split second before ignoring Q and going back to ruffling through the closet in an attempt to keep his hands—and attention—busy until Q gave up. He had to. James didn’t know what to do if he didn’t. “Give double-oh two about ten minutes to cool down, and then it’s safe to leave. Tea and kettle are in the kitchen if you want,” he said, pulling the first suit he saw. He momentarily hesitated, and then froze when Q grabbed his shirt collar.

Silence, and then, “Q, let me go.”

He didn’t see what Q did, just heard the floorboards creak as Q shifted nervously and released his collar. His heart sank, when he heard the familiar defeated sigh, more heartbreaking in person than through an impersonal earpiece. “James, I’m sorry about the kiss, it won’t happen again,” he said finally. James listened as the footsteps began to retreat, heading back towards the kitchen. “Do you want coffee or tea?” he asked, pausing in the threshold.

“Whiskey.”

“Coffee it is,” he heard Q say, and smiled despite himself. He bowed his head as he heard Q leave the room and head towards the kitchen. Slowly exhaling, he knew he needed to say _something_ to salvage the situation and make sure that no blame lay anywhere. _I can’t let him close, but it kills to push him away like this_. He glanced towards the door that opened into the hall that led to the kitchen, where he could hear Q searching through the cupboards for the coffee, tea, or most likely both.

_Why am I doing this to him?_

_To protect him._

Straightening, he leaned back, stretching his neck before turning and heading towards the kitchen. Fiddling with his cuffs, he entered the kitchen to find Q hunched over the counter, head bowed as he stood next to the kettle. Pushing aside the guilt settling in his heart, James leaned against the doorframe and said, “Q? What just happened-”

“I know, won’t happen again,” Q interrupted, turning around and flattening himself against the counter. He fidgeted slightly and said, “I, uh, misread your intentions that’s all. It won’t happen again, I mean, there’s a reason I’m not a field agent, I’m not that good with reading people, just you when you’re lying to me about your equipment because you do it so often,” he said, looking anywhere but at James as he spoke. “And I know you have someone else, something I chose to disregard in that moment, my fault entirely so please don’t blame-”

“Q.”

Q promptly fell silent, but squared his shoulders as though attempting to appear defiant before James. _Now or never, I have nothing to lose at this point_. “There is no one else, there never has been for a while,” James said, slowly approaching Q, giving the other man an escape route for as long as possible. “You once said I could talk to you if I was ready. I am ready now.” Placing a hand on the counter on either side of Q, he rested his forehead against Q’s, idly noting the quickened pulse even as Q bowed his head slightly to make it easier for James to rest. “Everything I said in the archives was true,” he said, feeling Q’s forehead wrinkle as he thought back to yesterday. “You deserve so much better than me and my six-month lifespan, the only reason I haven’t snuck out of the menial tasks at Q-Branch is because it means I can be with you without anyone questioning it, and your cat is actually either possessed or a demon from hell who doesn’t like being shoved through a window.”

Q snorted softly. “Who _doesn’t_ like being shoved into a window?” he asked, and James chuckled despite himself before he gently nuzzled Q’s temple.

“I don’t want to drag you down with me, I like that smile too much to risk damaging it permanently. It’s better that we remain friends, colleagues, and nothing more because it will hurt you otherwise. I am a double-oh agent, but I know to be careful not to be cruel to those who matter,” he said, allowing Q to pull him closer into a loose embrace.

Q scoffed weakly, sniffling a bit before he said, “You’re being cruel right now, you were cruel in the archives when you were telling me about what you do for that other person and it doesn’t fucking matter who that person is.” Gripping James’s lapels, he tilted his head to brush a kiss against James’s cheek. “I hadn’t forgotten you since you were the only person who agreed to stand as witness in my defense during the investigations into M’s death,” he finally admitted, his voice barely audible. “I never—I still don’t understand why you did that.”

“Well, it wasn’t fair to leave you high and dry when it was my idea in the first place, and I was feeling self-masochistic at the time. Admitting fault to face punishment from the committees seemed like a good idea at the time, especially since M wouldn’t let me on missions yet,” James replied, wrapping his arms around Q’s waist as Q pulled him closer so that their bodies touched. He sighed, squeezing Q gently once before he said, “Maybe that’s why I’m telling you this, to hear you tell me to fuck off.”

Q shook his head before laughing bitterly. “Then you’ll be waiting awhile for something that will never come,” he said, resting his head against James’s chest. “I really should tell you that, though.” He hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Then why will you still walk away after this? I am going to continue to hurt after this, you know that. Because it doesn’t stop just because you said we can’t be together, it doesn’t fucking work like that.”

“But it won’t hurt as much.”

Q pushed James away to make eye contact, brow furrowing in anger. “You claimed that you had six months. Let me have those six months,” he said, voice hardening slightly even as James carefully reconsidered his next step.

“No. Because _when_ I die, you’re going to grieve and I know how painful it is to lose a loved one. I don’t want to subject you to that,” James said, reaching up to brush his thumbs gently against Q’s warm skin. “You’re too you-”

“Call me ‘young’, and you’ll be wishing you can take it back within five days,” Q warned, a smile twitching on the side of his mouth despite himself.

“Noted.” James sighed and attempted to untangle himself only to have Q tighten his grip. “Q…”

“Shut up, my turn,” Q snapped, the sharp tone startling James. “I know more than you think I do. Aside from the fact that I’m your Quartermaster and _therefore have the resources to recover missing footage to see each time you injure yourself chasing after equipment_ , I have Friday tea with O’Reilly, and he likes to complain about you, _a lot_ ,” he said, tapping James’s nose as he straightened as though to regain control. “I mean, to know that you were injured is one thing, but that you did it to retrieve equipment…James, that stuff is meant to save your life, not risk it.”

“Yes, double-oh nine said as much,” James said, attempting to extract himself again; he’d seriously underestimated Q’s determination.

Q exhaled sharply. “What I’m trying to say is _give me those six months_. I know the risks James, I see it every time I send double-oh nine or two out on missions together or separately. They know they’re living on borrowed time, but at least they make the most of what they have,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “Please, please just give me those six months.”

James hesitated, staring into the expressive green eyes that had always captivated him. Brushing the dark hair back and around Q’s ears, he carefully leaned forward and kissed Q gently on the mouth, aware of the wet streaks on Q’s cheeks. Q held him close before whispering, “Just six months. Please just give me six months.”

_Did double-oh nine tell you that I would always give you what you wanted?_

Praying he wouldn’t regret it later, James sighed. “Six months,” he said finally, shoulders slumping as he held Q close, tucking Q’s head underneath his chin. “Under one condition.”

He felt Q stiffen. “What?”

“We don’t tell double-oh nine about it. We carry on at work as though we’ve agreed to remain separate, but keep this to ourselves. For one thing, broadcasting the relationship would put you further at risk, and two, it will drive double-oh nine crazy if she thinks that we’re still not together,” James said, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through Q’s hair, silently reveling in the other man’s proximity.

A soft laugh. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the following prompt from the 00Q Facebook group:
> 
>  
> 
> _Bond is the one who's absolutely smitten. Bond doesn't make his feelings known and chooses instead to just be friends with Q. That is, until Q finds out, again up to filler, maybe Bond accidentally shows his hand, or some motherly advice from Eve). Lots of fluff. Bonus: flustered!Bond being cute._


End file.
